


Untitled (He's not some summer breeze in human form)

by amorremanet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Femme Castiel, Femme Dean Winchester, Gender Issues, Gender Roles, M/M, Makeup, Poetry, how important is lipstick to you Dean?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-23 00:36:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorremanet/pseuds/amorremanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>And you're trapped with this unfathomable boy / this lanky enigma whom you can only hope to puzzle out / because of some school project you wanted no part in ever.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled (He's not some summer breeze in human form)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rantothedevil](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=rantothedevil).



> This was written for Izzy/rantothedevil @ tumblr, with the prompt, "candlelight."

He's not some summer breeze in human form  
just any other guy, just anybody else from school,  
just a kid who doesn't have a fuck to give about  
his glittery blue eyeshadow but only cares for  
the way that it makes his face-consuming eyes pop out.

You're snowed into the house together  
lights turned off and candles lit  
because that's what the guy on the TV news said to do,  
your parents trapped 'til morning at your aunt's, your mother's sister's  
because this storm's worse than everything before it  
this storm could undo your dad's monstrous truck like the gordian knot  
and then-some, and leave parts behind all in a wreck like you.

And you're trapped with this unfathomable boy  
this lanky enigma whom you can only hope to puzzle out  
because of some school project you wanted no part in ever.  
Just your fucking luck, am I right?

In the candlelight, shadows dance across his features  
slink in underneath his fine cheekbones (which in this light look  
finer still and more acutely arched than they do anyway) and he asks  
you, when he catches you staring as he reapplies his liner,  
"how important is lipstick to you?"

And you know your answer should be not at all  
because that's the way that dad would want it  
because that's what a good son would say  
but you still find yourself rolling your eyes back into your skull  
parting your chapped lips just so and rubbing them together  
sitting opposite this beautiful, sharp-cheeked boy  
as he paints your face in pinks and plums and apricots  
by candlelight on your parents' living room floor.


End file.
